Don’t ask a cheater why they did it.
I can tell you exactly why; they don’t care.
They’ll tell you that they do: that it was a terrible mistake, a drunken fuck-up, a pity fuck, or a moment of weakness. They didn’t cheat for any of those reasons. They did it because in that moment they wanted to, and they were thinking only about themselves.
I know this because I’ve looked into the eyes of someone who cheated and sobbed like a child, raged like a hurricane, and screamed like a fucking banshee. I’ve done it all, but I can tell you right now it had no effect at all. He didn’t care, not really. I believe he didn’t like to see the pain I was in, but I also believe that was mainly because he didn’t like the guilt. He wanted me to be ok with it, and when I demanded answers he had none to give. And when I kept demanding he turned nasty.
When I wouldn’t back down he blamed it on me; I was too fat, too frigid, not glamorous enough, too career driven, too ambitious. I was anything he could label me to make what he did ok. And when I wouldn’t take it he called me as many names as he could find, hurt me in as many ways as he could think of:
“I should have made you choose between uni and me.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to see her” [about the woman he left me for]
Trust me; this is something you don’t need. Something you don’t want to deal with; let me give you the answers you can’t get from them.
No-one was ever going to be enough for them.
No, they don’t care.
No, it wasn’t something you did, and no you couldn’t have done anything to avoid this.
Yes, you still have worth.
Yes, you are loveable.
Someone will love you again, but They never did. By the time they were cheating they had stopped caring.
You can do this. We can do this.